When the group arrived to Crave, they waited until they spotted Malik staggering out with a woman under his arm. While Jahlil played ball professionally, his friends kept their ties to the streets and the neighborhood intact. For moments like this when a message needed to be delivered without a trace left. The club’s cameras were killed, when Azul Hearts from Volts arrived to finish the job, there would be no evidence.
Ashton was the first to jump out. Yes, he played a lot but he didn’t play about Emani or Donnée. Malik putting his hands on her was the final strike. He quickened to the pair and looked at the woman up and down. A plant, a 60thStreet Vulture herself.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” Ashton spoke cooly, handing her a stack. “Tell them niggas around the corner we’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
She nodded and pranced away.
“The fuck you on, nigga?” Malik slurred.
“What’s good,” Jahlil rumbled. The question wasn’t answered fast enough to beat Jahlil’s gloved fist to the side of Malik’s face. “That’s where you hit her? Right there? Is that where he hit her, C?”
Carson looked at Malik, who fell against his car. “Iono, I think it was a little bit to the left.”
Jahlil grabbed him by the collar and punched him again. “Right there?”
“Nah, to the right,” Carson muttered.
Jahlil punched him again and again and again. “I think he looks better with matching black eyes.”
“Me too,” Kyrie spoke from the back, spinning a bat in his hand. “Match that shit, Savage.”
Jahlil repeated his actions, Malik muttered something incoherently but it fell on deaf ears. When Malik was too weak to stand up, Jahlil shouted. “Stand up, nigga! I saw that footage. You can hit a woman but can’t fight a man? Bitch ass.”
Jahlil held his hand out for the bat and Ashton placed his hand on the hood.
“Aim right, don’t miss like your free throws. Can’t dent up this ride,” Ashton directed.
Jahlil slammed the bat against Malik’s hand, causing Malik to shout in pain. “Damn it, man. That’s not his punching hand.”
Ashton snapped his fingers. “You right. He hit her with the right. My bad, Savage.”
Placing the right hand on the hood, Jahlil slammed the bat down on it with all his might repeatedly, until he heard the bones crack. “Ky, you think he can hold his son with that?”
Kyrie shrugged. “What does it matter? He ain’t did shit with the little nigga in about three years. What’s a couple more months?”
“I like it when you right,” Carson spoke, snapping his fingers. “I think both hands need to match his face. Let Volts have his legs.”
Jahlil nodded. “Got to leave something for the Vultures.”
Ashton picked up his left hand and placed it on the hood. Jahlil repeated his actions until the bones cracked and his fingers curled.
“That’s time,” Carson called.
Malik laid on the ground, groaning in pain. Jahlil squatted down and smirked. “The next time you think coming up against me is a smart move, check my resume, nigga. See you at practice Tuesday? No? Don’t worry, I’ll hold the team down for you. Don’t worry about it, nigga. Get well soon, my guy.”
With that, Jahlil stood and strolled away. “Come on before my lady and my kids get up looking for me.”
28 /EMANI
Emani’s eyes popped opened.Her body, still sore, tense due to her feeling Jahlil’s frustration. Without hesitation, she was up and searching for the shorts she’d kicked off. As she slipped them over her legs and pulled the drawstring secure around her small waist, she tiptoed out of the room. The growl of her stomach led her downstairs to the kitchen. When she arrived hours ago, she couldn’t think about food, she was too embarrassed to even look at Aunt Violet in the eyes. Now, that didn’t matter.
Aunt Violet was in the kitchen, sitting in the dim light, sipping from a clear mug of tea. “Look who finally came out of hiding.”
Emani tucked her lip. “I was-”
“Embarrassed. For what? I wouldn’t know why? What you embarrassed for? Finally fighting for your shit?” Aunt Violet asked, moving from the counter to the microwave. “Sit down.”
Emani followed suit and watched her. The plate of heated food – smothered chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans, simple but Emani’s favorite – and a mug of ginger, turmeric green tea for her soreness. A simple act of love.
